The Perfect Servant
by Loopstagirl
Summary: What does it take for Arthur to realise the servant he has is the one he needs? Non-slash!


**Wow, i haven't posted anything Merlin for a while, the Thunderbirds section seemed to have kidnapped me. Well, they've let me go to post this at least. Enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think!**

**As normal, thanks to my amazing beta, PirateMoose! :)**

"Merlin!"

The said warlock looked up at the prince's angry shout. He had yet to even enter his chambers, a clear indication that his servant was in big trouble, again. Striding regally into his room, Arthur glared at the boy sitting on the floor polishing boots.

"Why was my sword not sharpened yesterday?" The prince snarled, his temper with his servant growing shorter by the second.

"I did it the day before." Merlin protested, gesturing with the rag he held in his hand. His jobs, having always been a lot, seemed to have multiplied themselves over the last few weeks as the stubborn prince wanted things to an even higher standard than the servant thought possible. That is, impossible without the aid of a little magic here and there. He knew Gaius would disapprove of him using his gift to help out with his chores, but nothing Merlin seemed to be able to do these days met with Arthur's standards.

"So you decided it didn't need doing again, did you?" Frustrated by the fact his servant couldn't do anything right, Arthur grabbed his sword and placed the tip under Merlin's chin, causing the boy to swallow audibly.

"Feel sharp enough to you?"

"I was cleaning your room yesterday," Merlin muttered, his eyes never leaving the cold edge of the sword.

"So you didn't muck out the stables then either?" Knowing the answer at the guilty look shooting across the warlock's face, Arthur lowered his sword with a sigh. Honestly, could he do _anything _right?

"Go and do it now, Merlin."

Without another word, Merlin climbed to his feet. Heading towards the door, his foot caught in one of the many pairs of boots littering the floor and he went flying, only to crash straight into Arthur. The prince, however, almost seemed to be expecting it, and simply caught the flying warlock with an exasperated sigh before giving him a push towards the door. How hard could it be to find a servant who was half decent at their job?

Embarrassed and thoroughly annoyed, Merlin made the way to the stables in a stormy silence, drawing looks of amazement from anyone he passed. His good nature, along with his clumsiness, had given him a bit of a reputation among the servants, and it came as a shock to them to see him looking so angry. Striding into the stables, Merlin let the stable door bounce violently off the wall behind it before shutting it gently behind him, knowing that wasn't the best move to make in a stable full of horses. Arthur's especially could have a temper to match his master's.

"Good morning, young sir," A cheerful voice resonating through the stables as Merlin picked up the fork, causing him to jump in surprise. Spinning wildly around to find the source of the voice, he eventually saw a head poking over the back of Uther's fine horse, a brush in one hand and a grin on his face. Smiling in acknowledgement, Merlin racked his brains frantically, trying to think of the man's name. He had seen him around the castle a lot, but had never spoken to him.

"Thomas, at your service sir. Manservant to his very royal majesty, King Uther Pendragon."

"Err..right. I'm Merlin, Arthur's servant."

"Manservant to the crown Prince of Camelot, it must be such an honour." Feeling a frown begin to form, Merlin smiled back and turned away from Thomas. It was apparent what kind of servant he was, a boot licker no doubt. He wouldn't last five seconds up against Arthur.

Shifting his fifth fork full of something the warlock quite frankly didn't want to consider, Merlin changed his mind about Arthur. Maybe a servant like Thomas was what he needed; he had accepted Cedric quickly enough. Well, before he turned into an evil sorcerer who then tried to kill the prince. Merlin had always assumed that the prince gained as much from their bickering as he did, but given Arthur's recent attitude towards Merlin's workload, maybe he had misunderstood the prince. It had been quiet lately, no random sorcerer attacks to distract the prince and help the two bond even further as Merlin saved his life time after time. Not that Arthur knew half of the times his servant had saved his royal arse though. But even so, danger did seem to bring the two of them closer together, but when stuck with just everyday chores, their friendship was being severely put to the test. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, Merlin found himself watching Thomas out of the corner of his eye. The man certainly worked well, keeping the horse completely calm whilst he methodically brushed his already shining coat. No doubt he had time to spare because he had already done his jobs for the day, regardless of the fact it was only lunchtime. Merlin was lucky if he was completed by midnight, let alone any earlier.

"How long have you served Uther, Thomas?" The warlock asked suddenly, wondering whether he would be able to get any tips from the efficient man.

"Five years this fall, young sir. The time has passed so quickly since his gracious majesty offered me the job."

Just in time, Merlin covered up his snort with a cough. Offered? Yeah right. No doubt Uther had just grabbed the first servant who walked past and told them they were now his servant, leaving them with no choice in the matter. It had certainly happened that way with Merlin. No one had asked him whether he wanted to be stuck serving a royal prat. No, they had just assumed that it would be an "honour".

"How about you, sir? How long have you been serving his royal highness?"

"Who, Arthur? Dunno, probably about a year and a half I guess."

"Very good, sir."

"It's just Merlin." Feeling himself begin to get annoyed with Thomas, Merlin switched his original plan. The only thing he was going to learn from this man was self control, how long he lasted before he either burst out laughing or smacked him one. Why would anyone want to sound _so _respectful the whole time, especially when there was no one else around to report any insolence.

"Merlin!" Or at least, there hadn't been any one around until Arthur himself strode impressively into the stables. Thomas immediately bowed lowed, his head almost on his knees as Arthur strode past. Watching him with raised eyebrows, Merlin didn't so much as move an inch when Arthur came to a stop in front of him, arms folded across his chest.

"Well?" The prince demanded haughtily. Completely clueless as to what he was supposed to have done this time, Merlin stared back.

"Well what?" he eventually asked, knowing Arthur was not going to enlighten him any time soon. At his tone, Thomas's head shot up, his eyes wide with disbelief that a mere servant would talk to his master that way. Especially as his master was someone of great importance. Rolling his eyes, Merlin winced when he saw the expression on Arthur's face. He had seen the motion, and was not best pleased.

"Do I even need to ask you why you haven't mended my shirt for this evening yet?"

"This evening?" Merlin muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Suddenly smacking his palm against his head, the warlock realised what was happening that night. The prince was dining with his king.

"You've got another one just the same." He offered helpfully, not liking the way Arthur's face was clouding over.

"I've had it up to here with you, Merlin! Can you not do anything right? You have this evening to prove you are capable of doing at least some of your jobs right, or you're out. Honestly, Merlin, you've had more chances than you deserve. Do the slightest thing wrong tonight, and I'm getting a new servant at dawn." Striding out of the stables, Arthur didn't even acknowledge Thomas' deep bow, nor the flabbergasted servant he had left in his wake. Merlin was stunned. He knew that they had their differences, the last few weeks had proven that, but for Arthur to actually sack him?

"You better hurry, Mister Merlin," Thomas supplied unhelpfully, not knowing he was risking being blasted into next week.

"You think?" Merlin muttered, stalking past him and heading back up to the castle. He had just enough time to go and get changed himself before helping Arthur dress. His heart sinking, Merlin couldn't help but worry about the upcoming evening. He never seemed to be able to make it through one of Uther's dinners without something going wrong, especially when the King started up on one of his tirades about the evilness of magic.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Standing behind Arthur's chair, the warlock didn't let his defences down for a second. So far, so good. Not only had he managed to serve Arthur in a half decent manner for the first half of the evening, he had also resisted frying Thomas on the spot. Honestly, if that man bowed one more time…

"You've heard of the rumoured sorcerer's gathering on the border?" Uther asked his son suddenly, completely ignoring how the servant standing behind Arthur tightened his grip on the water jug, his knuckles turning white. This was all Merlin needed right now, another lecture on magic.

Before Arthur could answer, however, the doors to the hall burst open and the guards from outside fell into the room, both unconscious. Merlin had just enough time to register Arthur grabbing his sword before he was thrown across the room, crashing into the wall. Desperately trying to stop his head from spinning, the warlock looked up to see Arthur pinned against the wall, struggling hard against invisible hands, and Uther in a similar position on the opposing wall. Thomas could just be seen over the edge of the throne, his face white and visibly shaking in fright. Rolling his eyes at the uselessness of the servant, Merlin pulled himself to his feet, ignoring Arthur's gestures for him to stay where he was. Standing in the middle of the room, hands outstretched either side of him, a man stood draped in a menacing black cloak. It was obvious he was the one keeping the royalty pinned, one hand aimed directly at Arthur, the other at Uther.

"You will suffer, Pendragon. The way you made me suffer." Uther was not struggling to the extent of his son, but instead fixed the sorcerer with an icy stare. Tuning out of the speech he was sure to come, Merlin instead opted for creeping across the floor. With a sudden lung, the warlock threw himself at the sorcerer, catching him around the midriff and sending them both crashing to the floor. Whilst Uther still remained locked in his position, the action had been enough to free Arthur, sending him sliding down the wall with a gasp. Scrambling across the table, Merlin grasped blindly until he felt the cold hilt of Arthur's sword, still lying where the prince had dropped it in surprise of the attack.

"Arthur!" Yelling as loud as he could, Merlin saw both the prince and the sorcerer turn towards him at the same time. Throwing with all of his might, the servant threw the sword to his master, just as he felt himself rising in the air. Slamming back into the ground hard, Merlin lay gasping at the ceiling, all the breath knocked out of him.

By the sudden yells emerging from around him, the warlock was quite glad he could not see what was going on. He had a strong feeling that he really didn't want to know. Desperately trying to regain some oxygen into his protesting lungs, Merlin grasped Arthur's offered hand gratefully, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

Wincing at the mess on the floor as the guards spilled into the room and dragged the body from within; Merlin couldn't resist smirking at his master.

"Think your sword was definitely sharp enough." Grinning at the playful punch he received in return, the warlock looked back towards the throne to see an ashen face Thomas emerge from behind, barely able to stand up on his shaking legs. Side by side, Arthur and Merlin watched as the man tottered forward, caught one look at the blood on the floor…and promptly fainted.

"Wuss," Merlin muttered, his heart feeling lighter than it had done in days as Arthur laughed.

"You interrupted our dinner tonight, Merlin." Arthur began seriously, barely able to hide his smirk at the look of horror that shot across his servant face.

"So, sticking true to my word from earlier, you're stuck being my servant."

"But Sire, I…what?" Thinking he must have misheard Arthur, Merlin's look of bemusement deepened when the prince smirked at him in response.

"My armour needs cleaning, my boots need polishing, my dogs need walking and…my sword needs sharpening."

"Yes Sire." Unable to stop his grin, Merlin followed his prince out from the hall, watching out of the corner of his eye as Thomas stirred. Just as the doors shut behind them, an angry voice could be heard.

"What a useless lump, you were! Even my son's servant did more than you, and he is no more than a boy!"

His grin growing wider and wider, Merlin set off back down the corridor, trying to keep up with Arthur. He had been right after all; a boot licker wouldn't stand five seconds against the Crown Prince of Camelot.


End file.
